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Diagnosis
Welcome to 'MAN-KIND', blog series that offers support to carers of loved ones who are navigating the challenging journey of breast cancer. I'm your host, Daniel Shandley, and I'm here to bring you this platform for sharing experiences, providing comfort, and offering helpful tips to those who are supporting a loved one during this difficult time.
As someone who has experienced the emotional toll of breast cancer in my own life, I understand the fear and uncertainty that comes with the diagnosis. Through this series, we aim to create a community of support, encouragement and strength for listeners. It is our hope that you will find comfort in the experiences shared and that these conversations will help alleviate the stress and confusion that often accompany caring for a loved one with breast cancer.
In this blog, I'll be sharing my personal experiences as a support carer for my wife Catherine, who bravely fought against Triple-negative breast cancer. I first met Catherine at a party our mutual friend had thrown. I had just become single, and I knew that she would be attending the party and from that moment, we embarked on a journey of love and growth, which ultimately led to our marriage in 2007. Soon after tying the knot, Catherine became pregnant, and our family expanded to include three beautiful children born in 2009, 2011, and 2014.
The journey of Catherine's breast cancer began in 2008 when she discovered a small lump under her arm. Her GP reassured her that it was nothing to worry about but to keep checking. In 2012, another lump was discovered, and she was referred to the breast clinic where she was told it was a benign fibroadenoma. No further tests or scans were necessary, and life went on. However, in 2015, Catherine was not feeling well, and she had concerns about the lump. After a further visit to the hospital this time with an ultrasound and biopsy, we left the hospital and told the results would take two weeks and if we hadn’t heard in between time that’s it’s likely we have nothing to worry about.
After two long weeks had passed with no call or letter, we assumed that it was all ok and tried not to worry. However, the nagging feeling of doubt persisted and we needed closure. Finally, we decided to call the hospital to get an update. We were hopeful for positive news, but were stunned when the nurse asked us to come back in person and bring someone with us. The waiting game was agonising - anxiety and stress felt like a storm brewing inside of us. We soon realised that the request to bring someone meant only one thing...
Driving to the hospital, Catherine and we sat in an eerie silence, both consumed by overwhelming fear. Holding her hand, I recognised that sometimes physical touch provides more comfort than words ever could. I struggled to find the right words, wanting to validate her emotions and offer solace. We shared a moment of silent anxiety, our minds racing with the anticipation of receiving heartbreaking news. Later, we would come to know this period and emotions as "Scanxiety."
As we waited for our turn to meet with the specialist, I struggled to avoid making foolish small talk, acknowledging that nothing could be said to mask the fear and anxiety in the air. I wondered why we couldn't bypass this torturous waiting period altogether and meet with the consultant right away. As we anxiously awaited our turn, my body was suddenly hit by an overwhelming surge of adrenaline as her name was called. We were led into the consultant's office where a friendly nurse and the consultant greeted us warmly.
The consultant maneuverer his chair in front of Catherine and looked her directly in the eye, his expression serious. To our dismay, he delivered the devastating news - Catherine had grade 3 breast cancer and the test results were positive. Shocked, confused and utterly devastated, we barely heard his apologies. In that moment, our world came crashing down like an explosion and we were left struggling to grasp and process this life-altering news. Cancer had suddenly taken control, and we were thrown into its chaotic storm without any escape plan. I swiftly came to realise that when chair positions are rearranged and there is a nurse present in the room, it typically signals unfavourable news. Although not always the case, this was generally the situation we found ourselves in.
How can we prepare ourselves for bad news? Unfortunately, there is no easy answer. As we experienced when we received the positive BC results, it can feel like a bomb has gone off and our world has closed in around us. The silence in the room was deafening and overwhelming, and it felt like information was being thrown at us from all directions. It was difficult to process, and it felt like our minds were just not able to retain anything. In moments like these, it's natural to want to reach out and grab onto something, anything, for support. But sometimes the people we love need space to process their own emotions, and we need to respect that. All we can do in these moments is take a deep breath, try to stay grounded, and be there for those we care about as best we can.
I wonder what it's like for the medical staff to deliver catastrophic news to strangers in such an intimate setting. It's as if we've been knocked down, leaving us breathless, and struggling to regain our footing. From here on, this journey feels like a constant race for survival, with obstacles continually knocking us down into the dirt, forcing us to struggle to rise again. It's a harrowing experience in which we are repeatedly pushed to the limit, leaving us wondering how much more we can handle.
As the car doors closed, silence engulfed us. Catherine turned to me, brimming with anger and confusion. "Why me? Why me? What have I done to deserve this?" she sobbed. The realisation of leaving her children behind, fear of death, losing parts of herself like her hair, all weighing down on her. I felt helpless, unable to offer any words of comfort that could soothe the magnitude of her grief. All I could do was hold her hand and offer support as we both sat there feeling lost and alone. It was as if Catherine was in a hot air balloon alone, high in the sky amidst a raging storm. I grasped onto the tethering ropes with all my might, trying to act as an anchor to keep her grounded. We were both caught up in the storm that is breast cancer, terrified and unable to find a way out.
My emotions were running rampant, and I felt like a complete mess. There was a sense of numbness in me that was hard to shake off. Denial crept in, and it all seemed surreal - this happens to other people, not to us. Could there have been a mistake? The future looked bleak, and I was terrified about the welfare of our children. The thought of Catherine battling sickness made me feel sick to my stomach, and the question of whether she would survive loomed heavily on my heart. The possibility of losing her left me feeling utterly alone and at a loss. In an attempt to find solace, I tried to rationalise it all. Perhaps, with a successful operation and some chemo treatments, we could get back to "normal." But the harsh reality of what we were facing made it clear that life, as we knew it, would never be the same.
This was a moment of fight or flight. I chose to fight.
As a man, one thing I have always found challenging is how to handle a woman's tears. It's not that I lack compassion or do not care – it's more about the unease of knowing what to do when this situation presents itself. After some trial and error, I have found my way of dealing with it – to simply shut up, listen, acknowledge the pain, and provide comfort with a loving embrace. This approach is not foolproof, but it may very well be the best support you can give.
She needs you now more than ever, and your willingness to listen and provide comfort can mean everything to her in that moment. Sometimes, deciding on the right course of action can be a daunting task. However, in times of crisis, don't allow yourself to slip into a passive state. Be alert and take note of her surroundings, understand her needs to the best of your abilities. As her primary support system, it is necessary to be proactive in gaining clarity from the medical team. If something is unclear, don't hesitate to ask for clarification and take notes to make things easier for future reference. It's essential to recognise that these intense circumstances are bound to stir emotions, which might range from anger and fear to powerlessness and stress. It's crucial to acknowledge these emotions and have them under control, as they could be dangerously destructive if left unchecked. Remember, you're feeling these emotions because you care. The moment you become aware of any uncontrollable emotions or negative energy, take action to correct any adverse effects they might cause.
Know that every effort you make towards caring for your loved one is appreciated, and you will get through this together.
It's understandable that when faced with unavoidable situations, one may feel the urge to retreat. However, it's crucial to recognise that backing down is not an option. Running away might seem like the easy way out, but leaving when one's partner is sick is incredibly devastating. It would take great courage to stay, face the struggles, and fight with them as a united front. As a man to another, I will tell you this - you have to be there for your partner.
During the journey that Catherine and I took, we had to stand together through thick and thin. We wandered through a wilderness, where situations both good and bad arose. It was like We had ran through brambles before hitting a flat, seemingly easy path. But it never ended; we only faced more difficulties, and there was no other way to go but to push forward. Looking back, if I was to offer any advice, it is to stand by the person going through the challenging times. I wish I'd been more patient and empathetic, offered more love, and understood better what Catherine was going through. It's essential to keep hope and positivity alive, and amidst the challenging journey, always look for the little joys along the way. Together, we will overcome this arduous journey.
As a partner to someone who is sick, you are the one person who loves them above all else, and you must be there to offer your unwavering support. They need you, now more than ever. You'll become their anchor, someone they can rely on, someone to help guide them through the storm. You may need to absorb some of their frustration and anger like a punching bag, but it's all part of the journey. They will need you to hold them, cry with them, and listen to their worries, their fears, and their concerns. Most importantly, remember you are there to unconditionally love them, even when things are challenging or uncertain. You will be their strength, their support – your presence alone will make a significant difference in their lives.
Right now, they need you to be there for them, to be the rock they can cling to in this difficult time. The journey might be long and challenging, but with you beside them, you will navigate together, offering the love, patience, and understanding they need when they need it.
It's vital to recognise that caring for someone who is unwell can take a significant toll on your mental and physical wellbeing, and it's okay to ask for help. You don't have to figure it out alone. My experiences caring for Catherine have shown me that help is available when we need it. Don't hesitate to seek support from family, friends, or medical professionals.
Receiving assistance can come in different forms, from someone who can drive you to appointments to someone who can take care of the children, and anything in between.
Organisations are available to assist both cancer patients and their caregivers and I will provide you with web links on the resources page with helpful organisations that you may benefit from.
Thank you for reading this. In the next blog, I will speak about how my Christian faith helped me in this challenging period. I encourage you to read on and learn more.
Signing off for now Dan
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